


3096 Days

by Master_Langdon, MonsieurMadeleine, TortureMastermind (MonsieurMadeleine)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Anal Plugs, Anal Sex, Basement, Begging, Child Abuse, Corporal Punishment, Crying, Extremely Underage!!!, Forced Feminization, Forced Relationship, Fuck Or Die, Fucked Up, Kidnapping, Locked Up In A Basement, M/M, Master/Servant, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Non-Consensual Spanking, Non-Consensual Violence, Punishment, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Slavery, Whipping, fucktoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-05 16:31:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13391778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Master_Langdon/pseuds/Master_Langdon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonsieurMadeleine/pseuds/MonsieurMadeleine, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonsieurMadeleine/pseuds/TortureMastermind
Summary: Hannibal has been lurking around for some time, always following the same young boy: Will. And when Will is alone, Hannibal decides to just do what he's been longing for. He grabs Will and locks the young boy in his basement where he alone is master of life and death. He makes it very clear to the young boy that he isn't to be messed with. And if he has to do that the violent way, so be it.Based on the story of Natascha Kampusch who was kidnapped at the age of 10 and escaped at the age of 18. This will not follow the real storyline in some ways. This isn't meant as disrespect towards Natascha, she has been through things that some others can't even imagine.





	1. Free

‘Come on now’, Hannibal said, slightly irritated. The old, white van should’ve been cleaned up hours ago. They should’ve vacuumed it hours ago – actually Will would be the one doing the vacuuming. Hannibal would just be sitting and watching, realizing how he had lost hope op selling the old thing. Not that there was any more white to be seen on the outside. People wouldn’t want to buy it, or so Will had tried to warn Hannibal. Hannibal had responded with a snarl and a smack in Will’s face. He didn’t like know-it-alls, or so he said. He handed Will the vacuum and now Will found himself in the dusty van with the noisy vacuum at his side.

As Hannibal left, growling into his phone – the potential buyer wasn’t willing to raise the amount of money he wanted to spend on the old van – Will was left alone. Hannibal had entrusted him, believing he could leave the boy alone for some time without having the boy try to escape. Will had just bowed his head in submission, until Hannibal had turned his back to him. Slowly he dared to gaze at the gate; it was open. Not wide open, but just out of the lock, and it could be Will’s chance to escape. If only he’d have the courage to run.

Vacuuming the inside of the van, Will considered his options. If he ran, he had to keep the vacuum running just to prevent any suspicion. And the second he slipped through the small opening of the gate, he had to able to keep on running, no matter what. He had to run to anyone at the street and ask for help. He’d tell the person – or the people – that he was Will Graham, the boy who had been lost for around eight years. Surely they would help him – or so he hoped.

After getting a grip on himself, pulling himself together, Will decided to just go. He couldn’t stay here any longer if he had the chance to run. He would never forgive himself, for this might be the last chance he would get to run for a long time. Hannibal was away, he had gone inside to shield himself from the constant noise the vacuum produced. Understandably so. But now he had left Will unattended, given him a chance to escape. And of course Will would take that chance. No matter what would happen to him if he failed. He just wanted to feel that what he had known up until eight years ago: freedom. Even if it was just for ten seconds. He would let the man rape him, beat him. He just wanted one bit, one taste of freedom to cherish forever.

Will allowed himself one last glance at the open garage before slipping through the small opening the gate left and running, still careful not to make too much noise. He didn’t want Hannibal to come after him. If he did, he’d be lost.

Without even looking where he went, Will ran. First he took a turn right, then a turn left and then… he didn’t know, and he didn’t care either. He just cared about getting away from the man who had kept him in that cage for eight years. He started to become breathless, but he didn’t care about that either. He had to keep on running now. He’d have time to get his breath back later. When he knew he was safe.

He would’ve wanted to run much further, make it even harder for Hannibal to find him, but his legs began to give out. He had to stop now, otherwise he’d just drop down in the street – or so he feared. Maybe it would be better for him to be found like that, he thought for a moment. He rebuked that idea, however. What if it was his kidnapper who found him, or someone who would return him to that monster? He couldn’t risk it, he decided. Not now he had come so far.

Completely exhausted, he rang the bell of a house. A young lady opened and looked at him with a wondering gaze. Her blonde hair was tied up in a messy bun with a few strands of hair framing her lovely face. Her blue eyes showed both shock and pity.

‘You are…?’ the young woman asked, looking at the underweight young man who stood before her door.

‘I’m Will Graham’, Will said, fear and desperation evident in his voice. ‘I am the boy who was kidnapped eight years ago. The man… I just ran for my life. Please just call the police. I’m so scared he might have come after me.’

‘Of course. Come in. I’m Bedelia, by the way. And this is my dog Winston.’ With a friendly but worried smile, she let the young man in, her gesture welcoming him to take a seat on the comfortable looking couch, which he did. ‘Could I bring you something to drink?’ Bedelia asked, already heading for the open kitchen.

‘Yes, a glass of water would be nice.’ Will settled down, petting the dog who settled at his feet. It was a strange image, or so Will thought. Having someone lying at his feet. For the last eight years, he had been the one lying at someone else’s feet, and not the other way round. But he wouldn’t harm the dog. On the contrary; he’d caress the dog, pet it lovingly.

Bedelia joined him on the couch, handing him the glass of water before taking out her phone and dialing the emergency number. She demanded police at her house immediately. She told the person on the other side of the line that she had Will Graham at her side. The real one.

***

Police came soon enough. Will immediately got up to shake the officer’s hand, but he was reprimanded of doing so. The officer asked whether he had any form of identification with him instead. When he didn’t respond because of lack of an answer, the officer repeated his question, almost as if trying to push an answer out like that. Just when the officer wanted to ask the question for the third time, Bedelia interrupted. She defended Will, saying she doubted she herself would have any form of identification with her should she escape from being locked up for eight years. To that, they decided they’d just let the parents judge whether this was Will Graham or not.

***

In the car, Will thought of things that had happened during his imprisonment. He remembered so clearly that what he had asked so many times. It would always be the same question: ‘When will you let me go?’, and every time he would get the same answer: ‘Never’. He had just accepted that answer, up until three years ago. It felt like an eternity had passed since he said ‘If you won’t let me go and I can’t get away, I’ll have to stay here until one of us dies’. How slow time had seemed to pass. Every second had felt like an hour and every hour had felt like a day. But thanks to the little calendar he was allowed to keep in his prison-like room, he wouldn’t go insane.

Will had always feared that he was to remain there with Hannibal until one of them died. And according the way he was treated, Will concluded that he would be the one who died first. But now it turned out to be the other way round. Someone had jumped in front of a train, and that man was Hannibal Lecter. Will would have liked to think that Hannibal just couldn’t live without him, but the harsh truth was probably that he just didn’t want to get caught, knowing the punishment he’d get for holding someone for eight years in a small prison-like room. Well… Maybe it was the first one, but Will would never know. He also figured it might be for the best if he didn’t know.

At least he was the one who survived in the end, and not Hannibal as he had feared since the day he had concluded one of them had to die for the other one to be free. He could’ve escaped without Hannibal’s death, or so he had concluded now. And yet it was him who survived.

***

Will stood with his back to the door, looking out the window. A part of him wanted to go out there to feel the grass under his feet once again. He wanted to feel free. But the other side feared it. Hannibal was dead, and yet the fear still lingered in him. He didn’t know why he couldn’t just allow himself to feel happy. Maybe it was the fear that this was all just a dream and that he’d find himself in the dusty, old van with Hannibal shouting at him again. Shouting that he was lazy, that he was useless.

Footsteps approached, and Will could sense it was more than one person. Maybe two, maybe three. No more, he knew. He didn’t dare look around, despite the fact that the footsteps had stopped at the door opening. He feared that his parents wouldn’t recognize him. And yet he turned around, he needed to know if this were his parents, if they would recognize him.

And yes, they did. His mother Theresa ran up to him, already hugging him tightly before he had the chance to say anything. His father Thomas followed soon after. His mother’s tight hug squeezed all of the air out of his lungs, almost as if she tried to forbid him to say a word. Not that he knew what to say, even if he did have enough breath to.

‘Will…’ she muttered as she moved away from him to take a good look at the young man. He had changed, she noticed, but not in the good way. On the contrary: he looked like a skeleton with some skin. It hurt Theresa so bad, as she had always thought that it was all her fault. Her own stupid fault. She should’ve ran after him, stopped him from going alone… The thought of her fear made the tears run down her face, along with the gratefulness she felt of finally having her little boy back – she didn’t care that he wasn’t the same size anymore. He would always be her little boy.

***

Once in the car, Thomas drove and Theresa sat in the back seat with Will in her tight embrace. Both of them still emotional. She had insisted on knowing every detail Will remembered, just so they could catch Hannibal – she didn’t know the man’s name – but Thomas had insisted they’d wait for a few hours, maybe a day. Will suddenly spoke, however.

‘Unbelievable how thankful you could be for a fight’, he suddenly said. ‘I wished you had shouted at me a thousand times louder, had hit me a thousand times harder if it’d prevent this from happening. I felt so guilty for walking off in the first place… Hannibal – that’s the man’s name – Hannibal Lecter put me in a sort of… cellar. Or maybe… whatever. It was around five square meters. He brought me food and eventually started reading me stories before going to sleep, but he would never show any affection. He would always be a stranger to me, though he seemed to know me well… I wrote a letter to you to tell you that I was alright so you wouldn’t be worried… And…’ The memories forced the tears out of Will’s eyes. And soon he was sobbing again, just like he had done just hours ago, when Hannibal had beat him with a belt buckle for God-knows-how-long.

‘Calm down, darling’, Theresa answered. ‘The most important thing is that you’re with us again, and that Hannibal can’t find you again. We’re going to make it very comfortable for you at home and then we’ll see what we do.’ She spoke to him as if he were ten once more, trying to make up for the time she couldn’t be with him. And Will liked it that way.


	2. Day 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first day locked up including an argument and a lot of questions.

No sound was there to be heard except for the noisy van blowing air into the small room. If it was even to be called that. The whirring of the van just wouldn’t stop. Little Will listened to it as he sat timidly in the corner of his tiny cell-like “room”. He didn’t dare move. This man could come back any minute, or so he reckoned. Was this man to be trusted? Who was this man? Why had he chosen Will, and not the another kid? How long would he be left alone in this small space?

Tears ran down his face as he thought of his mother, his father long gone. He left with another. He felt so sorry that he had just walked out in his anger. He had been mean, he realized, he had said bad things. If he had just said sorry and made it up to his mother he would be with her now, an not in some strange basement – whatever this should be called – waiting for a stranger to tell him why he had been picked to go with him to this house. Was this even a house?

Faraway sounds were heard, and soon they came closer. And then the kidnapper came in, carrying a mattress, a towel and shampoo.

‘Go stand in the other corner’, he ordered without even looking at the frightened young boy. And of course Will did as he was told. In complete silence. He didn’t dare make a sound as the man placed the mattress on the floor, drop the neatly folded towel under the sink next to the door and set the shampoo on top of the sink. Luckily it had a toilet, too, but no shower or any other way to wash oneself. Just the sink.

Suddenly Will was pulled out of this thought induced trance when he was pulled up. He was made to kneel on the closed toilet and bend forward so the kidnapper could spray some water on the young boy’s hair after which he was commanded to take some of the shampoo, but not without the kidnapper shouting that he was good for nothing, using that much shampoo.

‘You’re really good for nothing, little imbecile’, the kidnapper growled. ‘Do you have any idea how expensive this is?’

‘I… I’m sorry’, Will answered, the fear making his voice tremble as he was pushed forward again so the kidnapper could put the shampoo in his hair. And still Will wondered what this man’s name was. Why hadn’t he introduced himself properly? He decided he would just ask the next time he would look the man in the eye. And the opportunity came soon enough. Once he was pulled upright once more he pushed the words over his lips: ‘What’s your name?’

‘You don’t need to know.’ This kidnapper wasn’t planning on telling a young boy, but Will wanted to know, asking the same question again, getting the same answer, to which he decided to do it a different way. Plead for the name. Eventually the man answered something else than ‘You don’t need to know’. It was barely audible, but Will heard it: Hannibal. What a weird name, the young boy thought. But he didn’t dare comment, let alone laugh. He didn’t have time to, even if he would’ve wanted to; Hannibal bent him over again, mumbling about his uselessness again, enraging Will. What had he done to anger this man so severely?

‘Why won’t you just let me go, if I’m so useless?’ Will asked when the man pulled him up for the third time, his normally curled hair now flat on his head, leaking soapy water in his face. Water which he tried to remove, brushing it away with his hands.

‘Because your parents aren’t paying the ransom’, Hannibal responded slightly irritated, or so Will sensed. ‘As long as they don’t pay, they won’t get you back. Contrapasso: You play, you pay.’

‘They don’t have the money to pay you!’ the young boy responded. ‘Why couldn’t you pick a rich family? You could ask all the money you wanted! My parents just can’t pay you! Why did you pick me? What have I done to you?’

‘They just have to go to the bank!’ Hannibal shouted into the boy’s face. ‘That’s all they have to do! Every bank shells money for a kidnapping! Every. Single. Bank! Your parents just don’t care enough about you to pay for you! You’re not worth it to them to go the bank and get the money! They don’t want to pay for you! They don’t love you! They don’t want you!’

‘That’s not true!’ Will responded, shouting too as he felt the hot tears sting in his eyes. How could this man say that? ‘My parents do love me! My parents do want me! They just don’t have the money! Can’t you pick someone else to pay?’

‘Don’t believe me, if you don’t want to! Just…!’ Hannibal growled again before pushing the boy’s head into the sink, rubbing the shampoo in, careless of hurting Will who sobbed underneath his hands. He pulled the boy up just so he could snarl in his face. ‘Stop crying!’ he shouted. ‘Stop crying! I can’t stand tears! Shut up! Shut up!’ Losing his patience, Hannibal pushed Will’s head under again, trying to suppress the struggling the boy caused.

Finally Hannibal let the young boy go. He pulled himself upright before looking up at Hannibal, fear and anger in his eyes. His breath trembled as he sobbed. It made Hannibal feel pity for the boy, but he knew he had to suppress that. He couldn’t let the boy know that he felt sorry for him. He couldn’t let his own youth standing in the way of his desires. Not now – to be honest not ever.

Angrily, Hannibal smacked the shampoo back onto the sink before slapping Will in the face. As his head swung to the side, his hear spread a fair amount of soapy water over the walls. Stepping back, Hannibal scolded the frightened boy for making such a mess before throwing the towel at him.

‘You’re going to wipe all of this up, you understand?’ With those words, he was gone. Will heard the double door shut, listened how the footsteps faded before hearing something heavy being placed. He didn’t know what the house – was this place even part of a house? – looked like outside of this small cell he was held in. But he didn’t know if he wanted to know, in all honesty. What if this was only the top of the iceberg? What if this man had even more to hide from him? Things he wasn’t allowed to know about until… later. Or whenever the man had intended for him to know.

Still sobbing, Will got up and started drying the walls. It had struck him deeply, that this man had said his parents didn’t care about him. He knew they loved him, wanted him – maybe ‘used to’ would be a better way to say it. Had they really given up on him just for the sake of money? How? Why would they do so?

At some point Will just sank down on the cold tile floor, sobbing into the towel he had used to dry the walls and the floor. What would his mother be doing now? Would she cry too? Would she happy to be relieved of being a mother? It had all started out so well this morning…

Suddenly, the lights went out and Will was left in complete darkness, all alone with his thoughts. The thoughts of which he feared were going to spiral out of control very soon if nothing happened. He missed his mother’s soothing embrace, missed how her voice would sing him to sleep if he couldn’t fall asleep himself. Through his sobs, Will tried to sing himself a lullaby, but he just wouldn’t feel sleepy. He felt scared – from birth he had been afraid in the dark, always terrorized with nightmares – and wished for this to be a nightmare. In a weak attempt to will all of the fear out, he pinched himself in his arm, but no. He would just be as awake as before, still in this same cell-like “room”.

Figures began to appear before his eyes, dancing in the dark as Will crawled over the floor, searching for the small mattress Hannibal had carried in earlier. He had always had this, seeing figures in the dark. He couldn’t touch them, couldn’t make them go away but couldn’t ignore them either. Wherever he’d aim his unseeing gaze, the figures would follow. At home, he’d just scream for his mother and she’d put on the lights, rushing to his side to help him calm down, but now he had no other choice than to face this.

As no blanket nor a cushion was provided, Will just curled up on the mattress, trying to keep the warmth with him, almost desperately holding on to the little bit of comfort he still had. Unable to sleep with his neck bent like that, Will sat up against the wall. He gazed around in the dark as his eyes started to get used to it. And yet he couldn’t see much. What was there to see anyways? More darkness, at most.

And so Will sat in the dark. He dared to hope that someone would come and save him, almost like a damsel in distress. He could’ve chuckled over the idea if he hadn’t been in the position he was in now. Nothing was funny now, he had figured the moment he had set foot in this cell. He had to be serious if he wanted to get out of this place. It felt like one of the games he used to play. You had to escape a sort of maze before the time ran out. He had always laughed at it, for he thought the game took it too serious, but now he was in the same sort of situation. What would happen to him if no one would save him? Would this captor keep him alive?

No matter how long he sat there in the dark, sleepiness just wouldn’t come. And if he did doze to sleep (or even thought he was getting close) he would be wide awake again. He was afraid of this captor. He knew nothing of this man but knew he had to be careful. This man would win any fight, physically seen at least. The young boy knew very well that he didn’t stand chance if it were to depend on physical strength, but mentally he could stand a chance. He knew his parents loved him, that they wanted him. No one could make him change his mind over that. Not even a man keeping him in this cold basement.

Time passed but Will had no idea how much time it had been. Two hours? Maybe four, he thought hopefully. Maybe he would be able to get some more info out of this mysterious Hannibal.

Hannibal… Will didn’t like the slightest thing of this man. The face seemed so strict. Didn’t this man have anyone to love? Will wondered about it. What had happened to this man to make him like this? What did he do when he was not in this cell? Did he live in the house this cell was (probably) attached to? Did anyone live with this man? Did this (or these) person (or people) know that there was someone else in here?

All kinds of questions surfaced, but none of them could be answered. He could only guess what the background of this man could have been and if the people who lived with this man knew about the presence of the young boy. Perhaps he would never discover the answers to the questions swirling around in his head. Hannibal didn’t want to tell the boy anything, or so Will noticed. Take for example the refusal of telling his name.


	3. Day 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First oral rape occurs

Night had passed in a sort of haze, and Will couldn’t remember half of the thoughts that had raced through his mind during those exhausting yet unsatisfying hours of contemplation. Something he did remember was that he had made a mental note to ask Hannibal for a clock the next time he saw him. But when would that be? In a few hours or in a few days?

As soon as Hannibal came in, Will just forced the words past his lips. ‘May I have a clock?’ he asked in the polite manner his parents had always taught him to. A look that betrayed Hannibal’s dilemma appeared. On one side he wanted the boy to be comfortable, wanted the boy to trust him and stay with him willingly, one day – he doubted that it would ever happen – but on the other side; he enjoyed the idea of being in charge.

‘If you’re good, you might get a clock’, Hannibal said eventually, setting the plate with a glass of water and a slice of bread with jam on the floor, close to where Will sat. After hesitating for several seconds, Hannibal joined the boy on the floor, smiling warmly at him, but Will just couldn’t muster to return the smile. He didn’t trust this man, didn’t know what hided behind those (momentarily) warm eyes. He had heard scary stories of men taking children with them to do nasty things to them, and he didn’t want to be the next one facing that fate, as he had figured.

Hannibal watched Will eat with a look on his face that discomforted Will. What was this man planning? What was that glint in this man’s eyes? Horniness was the answer, even if Will didn’t know this word himself. He knew it would have something to do with the things this mysterious Hannibal had in store for him. Would he be the next to be found dead in some kind of hidden basement? Or would he be “lucky” enough to survive, only to be brainwashed, bent to Hannibal’s will? Being bent to the man’s will… it scared the young boy. But that wouldn’t happen to him, right? He’d be killed the moment he made a fuss and his body would be discarded somewhere in a river or maybe a trash dump. He would’ve liked that better than being bent to this madman’s mind. Anything but becoming a psycho like him.

‘What are you thinking of?’ Hannibal’s accent sounded so refined, Will noticed. It sounded like an east-European accent, he knew. He didn’t answer the question, however. He didn’t want to show off that he was a weak person. ‘I hope you weren’t thinking of a way to escape’, Hannibal resumed. ‘You can’t get away.’

Will just stared at him, unwilling to anger the man by his possible answers. He just remained quiet, waiting for the man to resume his story.

‘Do I have to show you?’ Hannibal asked when the boy just wouldn’t respond. ‘Should I truly demonstrate your helplessness before you’ll believe me? If that’s what you want…’ As he spoke, Hannibal pulled Will up by the arm and dragged him out of his tiny room before showing him the enormous hatch. But it was not a normal hatch: it was made heavier with weights, and it couldn’t be opened from the side on which they were standing, or so it seemed. Holding Will tight, Hannibal showed him the stairs leading up to the normal height level, pointing out that that would be covered too, should he manage to get through the first two barriers – both the double door and the heavy hatch counted as barriers – and try to get away.

Even if Hannibal hadn’t held him by the arm, Will wouldn’t have dared to run. The eyes that glared at him, daring him to run also warned him that if he did take the chance, he’d pay dearly for doing so. And he didn’t want to know what that could mean. And even through those daring yet threatening eyes, Will saw the same he had seen while he ate. The same horniness still remained in his eyes.

Despite his longing for his until yesterday known freedom – he now wondered how he could’ve taken it for granted for so long – he let Hannibal return him to the tiny room without complaint, trying not to oppose him in any way. And yet it didn’t change anything about the look in Hannibal’s eyes. A look Will could only describe as longing.

If only he knew what hided behind those eyes. If only he knew the horniness Hannibal had to hide.

But that evening, Will would know what hided behind those eyes. He would know why Hannibal had captured him in specific, what this man wanted from him.

***

After being left alone for more or less ten hours, Hannibal appeared again, this time carrying a table and a small clock. He disappeared directly after placing them in Will’s room, just to appear again with two chairs, taking even more room from the small space Will had. But Will was grateful anyways.

‘Will you ever let me go?’ Will asked. He didn’t know why, but the question seemed to burn inside of him, the only option being to ask in the hopes of getting an answer. He did get an answer, but not an answer that could be useful in any way. Not that it surprised.

‘If your parents pay the ransom’, Hannibal responded in a matter-of-fact way. Of course it was a fact.

With an underwhelmed sigh, Will walked over to his school bag – the fact that Hannibal hadn’t taken it from him yet surprised him, like many things did at this point – and took out a letter he had written to his parents. He handed it over to Hannibal, but not before taking a last look at it. ‘Will you please send this to my parents?’ Will pleaded sweetly. ‘I don’t want them to worry.’

‘Let’s see’, was Hannibal’s response as he read the letter.

_Dear mommy and daddy,_

_I miss you. I think a day has passed since I left. I’m kept in some kind of secret room, but don’t worry about me. I get food and water and this man doesn’t hurt me. I can’t remember his name, however. Hannibal, or something. I’ve been left alone for most of the time. I only saw him twice and both times he’d have food with him. He tells me he won’t let me go unless you pay money. I don’t know how much money he wants, and he won’t tell me, but he does say you have to go to the bank. He says banks shell out money for kidnappings. I don’t know if it’s true, but you can try. I don’t know anything about this man, but he isn’t cruel. Just pay so we can be together again. I’m still afraid in the dark and I want to be with you._

_Love from Will_

‘Not cruel?’ Hannibal asked. ‘You think I’m not cruel? That’s sweet. So innocent…’ And there it was again. The same look he had in his eyes that morning. What had Hannibal meant?

Will didn’t even have time to contemplate that question as Hannibal opened up the fly of his trousers after which he pulled his fully erect cock out. He approached Will who stumbled backwards until his feet bumped against the mattress and he was pushed on his backside. He looked up at Hannibal’s eyes. They only showed pure horniness.

‘N-No…’ Will protested weakly. ‘P-Please. Whatever you’re going to do… Please don’t.’

Hannibal just laughed wickedly, holding Will’s head in place with one hand while guiding his cock to Will’s mouth with the other. ‘If you bite me’, he said while placing the head of his bulging cock against Will’s tightly shut lips. ‘I’m going to make you regret it, my dear Will. Just be good and I’ll be nice. Now open up.’

‘Please’, Will pleaded, but he was silenced by the head of Hannibal’s cock penetrating his mouth. Hannibal moaned as he thrust the tip of his cock in and out of Will’s mouth, enjoying how those innocent lips wrapped around his cock. No matter how he tried to restrain himself, he longed for more. He wanted to stuff the boy’s throat with his cock, but he had to wait. Just a bit longer, he promised himself. But for now he had to wait.

But that he had to, didn’t mean he would. Soon, he thrusted his cock in until he’d feel the back of the young boys throat, and a bit later, he’d force his cock down the boy’s throat, making the helpless child gag. The tears and the muffled pleas only added to his pleasure as he thrusted with abandon, tangling his bony hands into the boy’s curls.

As he came, spilling carelessly into Will’s throat, Hannibal cried out in ecstasy, tightening his hands to fists in Will’s hair. He pushed his cock back into his trousers before kissing the tears off Will’s face.

‘Sorry’, Hannibal said. ‘It just had to happen like this. Oral sex can’t be nice, or at least not for the submissive one. They’re meant to serve a dominant, nothing more.’ After saying that, Hannibal left, leaving Will with a sore throat and even more questions than before. What did Hannibal mean with that last set of lines? Was he to be submissive? Even though Will didn’t exactly know what submissive meant, but he knew he didn’t like it. And was Hannibal to be the dominant? He did know what dominant meant. It meant Hannibal saw himself as the boss. Will would have to obey him.

As he laid himself down, he sighed. When would someone come down there and save him? He didn’t know what it was that Hannibal had just performed on him but he knew he didn’t like it. Somewhere in the depths of his mind he knew too that this wasn’t the last time it was going to happen again, someday, whether it be tomorrow or in five weeks.

Suddenly another question surfaces: Have there been any other people been held in here? The capturer behaved like he knew very well what he was doing and what he had to do to keep his prisoner(s) in line. He would ask Hannibal if there had been other children, or maybe even grown-ups being hid in here, completely isolated from everything they know, from everyone and everything that could save them. He wondered some more until night came again. 

No matter what thoughts went through him during the night, there would always be one question in his head: What had Hannibal meant with ‘dominant’? It would always return his attention towards the question. What was expected from the little boy if he would let Hannibal be his dominant? Would he be expected to accept that what Hannibal had done to him just hours before? It still demanded to be felt, there in his throat.

Will decided some rest wouldn’t be wrong. And so he tried to relax, singing lullabies to himself as he dozed off, pretending it was his mother who sat at his bedside, singing one last lullaby before he would have to go to sleep. She had read him a bedtime story and had kissed him on the forehead, just as she would do again after singing him the lullaby, wishing him a good night’s sleep. If Will concentrated, he could imagine her voice saying ‘Sleep tight, my little darling’ before walking to the door opening, staring at him for just a few seconds more and putting of the lights blowing one last kiss to her dearest boy before walking off.

But now it had all changed. His mother was not at his bedside, and she wasn’t the one singing a lullaby to him. He had to do so himself and be a big boy, like mother had always told him.


End file.
